Gemotions

The weight of the world, or at least the weight of the city, pressed down on Mr. Peterson as he took the subway home. The same route, the same stale air, the same faces. The life he had dreamed of years ago felt like a lifetime away. A small gift sat on his kitchen counter when he arrived. It was a well-worn leather-bound journal, with a single bookmark inside. Inside the cover, a single sentence: "Write your own story, Mr. Peterson." It was signed by a student named Liam. He ran a hand through his hair and dropped his bag.